


Lions

by twentysevensummers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Post-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28521483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentysevensummers/pseuds/twentysevensummers
Summary: Harry and Ron, after the Battle. (A 500-ish word ficlet.)
Relationships: Harry Potter & Ron Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Lions

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a prompt from an anonymous poster on my tumblr blog. Thanks, anon!

Red and gold curtains were drawn, though the sky behind them was beginning to darken into night. Two young men sat cross-legged on adjacent unmade beds. One of them had jet black hair that stuck up around his head, and eyes that were puffy from sleep. The other had brilliant orange hair and looked like he could have been crying or sleeping not long before.

The first one, Harry, placed his hands on his knees before peering at his best friend.

"Ron, I was headed into that forest to die," he said. His voice had the quality of sandpaper working down splintered wood.

After a moment, Ron gulped and rubbed his face with his hand. His body, like Harry's, was slumped over like a shepherd's hook. He rested his chin on his palm, looking for all the world like he couldn't take any more bad news. "Tell me what happened."

So Harry did. He told of the contents of decades-old memories and the revelations that followed. He told of a lonely, sinking funeral march into a dark forest that was more terrifying than it had ever seemed before. He said nothing of a magical stone, or ghostly apparitions that walked with him through the forest, though these had happened. Those parts of the story he would tell only later, much later, when he had the strength. But he did tell of a confrontation with Voldemort, of a green, bright light, and a conversation with Dumbledore in the great beyond, or whatever that had been. At this point in the story, he paused and looked up at Ron, his tired face containing a hint of pleading.

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"You?" Ron let out a chuckle, or maybe a sob. "Mate, you're the least crazy of all of us."

Harry didn't reply. He could have been miles away from the dormitory where they sat now. After several long moments, he found strength from somewhere to finish the story, and then he and Ron sat in complete silence, both staring at their hands.

"Dad said we'll be leaving in a few hours," said Ron eventually, his voice weak and as equally scratchy as Harry's. "Will you be ready to go?"

The question clattered in Harry's head, loaded and complicated, but he forced down all of his questions and worries and answered, "Yeah."

They sat for a while longer, staring at opposite walls. There were no "I'm so glad we made it"s or "don't know what I'd have done if we'd lost you"s. Those would have to come later, when their hearts no longer felt like they'd been ripped out of their chests and then stuffed back inside, upside-down.

When it was time for them to leave for The Burrow, they climbed through the portrait hole, forgetting its lack in height and smacking their heads against the stone. They traveled the familiar path to the first floor, stepping around piles of rubble and patrolling Aurors, who gave them respectful nods as they passed.

Outside the Great Hall, they paused, then glanced over at each other, two Gryffindor friends who had made it. Each took a cleansing breath, and together they gathered the courage to step through the double doors, into their miraculous, unknowable futures.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Follow me [on tumblr](https://twentysevensummers.tumblr.com/)!


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